Practice

It makes perfect
So they say
But who wants perfect
Anyway?

It's the little flaws
That makes us unique
The chinks in the armour
That proves we're weak

That little blemish
On beautiful fair skin
That shows the flaws
That reside deep within

Who wants to become seasoned
Polished or prepared
When there's a myriad of blind spots
That need to be shared

And must be explored
Without malice or intent
Then as friends together
We can better compliment

Our moods and dispositions
Melancholy or glad
Can be better prepared
For happy or sad

So let's practice together
Share all eventually
But who wants perfect?
Not me.